Twelve graves of christm.., p.1
Twelve Graves of Christmas, page 1
TWELVE GRAVES OF CHRISTMAS
A JANE LADLING MYSTERY
BOOK FOUR
GENA SHOWALTER
JILL MONROE
Copyright 2022 Author Talk Media LLC
All rights reserved. In accordance of the U.S. Copyright Act of 1975, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Cover Created by Leni Kauffman
Editing by AZ Editing
Proofreading by Naomi Lane
The following images through CreativeFabrica.com:
Chapter Header: PadmaSanjaya
Ornamental Breaks: CRStocker
Prologue and Epilogue Header by julynx through Depositphotos.com
This book is dedicated to all our furry friends!
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About Gena Showalter
Also by Gena Showalter
About Jill Monroe
Also by Jill Monroe
PROLOGUE
Cattain’s log
December 25th, Year 2 a.j. (After Jane)
The invader has encroached upon my territory again.
His name is Conrad Ryan. And yes, his daring is commendable. But I do not commend him! He is such a foolhardy human. How can he not know I, Cattain Rolex Ladling, am not a feline one trifles with? Not without consequences, anyway. I am royalty! His Royal Highness the King of Dead Mouse Court, Prince Of Cattitude, Duke of Purry, Earl of Mayhem, Baron von Murder Mittens, Royal Knight of Clawsovenia, Distinguished Member of the Order of Whiskerus Maximus, Grand Master of the Furian Empire, Guardian of Disorder, Royal Chief of Chaos, Lord Ravendeath of the Garden’s Most Honourable Kitty Council, Personal Aide-de-Camp to Her Majesty’s Slightest Whim, and Lord High Admiral of Bughuntland. My rage knows no bounds!
Though I’ve attempted to slay the scourge with my glare two hundred thirty-three and a half times today, he has somehow survived.
I hunger for vengeance. I thirst for his pain.
After I complete my six-to-twelve-hour evening nap in the bowl on the kitchen table, grab a quick snack, assassinate a feather, cough up a hairball, knock over a vase, and perform a total body licking, I will ensure he regrets being born.
He should be quaking with fear. I’ve already sharpened my claws.
The usurper deserves only misery! He has ruined Christmas for me and my servant-queen, Jane. I’ve done everything in my immense power to remind her of happier times without the male. Stared at her unblinking for endless minutes. Removed annoyingly shiny orbs from our new indoor tree. Shredded hats and shoes to give them added flare. Yet, she is crying. Again. And he is responsible.
It shall be my privilege and honor to ensure he pays for every illicit teardrop.
When I first met Miss Jane, I made a quality decision to accept her worship as my due. I even vowed to protect her with each of my nine lives. In a surprise twist even I myself did not see coming, I have decided to keep my word. Turns out, she… isn’t terrible. I sometimes enjoy tolerating her even though she always melts at the sight of Conrad’s annoying smile. And his equally annoying frown. Still, I’m willing to go to great lengths to facilitate her happiness.
My enemy’s puny mind cannot even begin to fathom the lines I’m willing to cross to accomplish my goal. I’ll make him rue the cold November morning he moved into my cottage and—oh, a bird!
CHAPTER ONE
In The Twelve Days of Christmas song, everyone focuses on the partridge. I say concentrate on the pear…shaped diamond. What better way to break a curse than a holiday proposal?
–Lily Ladling’s Holiday Advice for Ladies Cursed in Love
The cold November morning
“Conrad told me he loves me, and he’s moving to Aurelian Hills.” Jane Ladling knelt before the crackling hearth in her living room, going through a tattered box of fall decorations. She’d found the treasures in the old business center of her ancestral “estate,” a landlocked cemetery named Garden of Memories. “The nerve of some people!”
Conrad Ryan. The Prince of Spices, thanks to his incredible scent, moving to her small town. For good. Being his ridiculously charming self. The horror!
“I assure you,” she said primly, “I responded as calmly and rationally as possible and did the most logical thing. I broke up with him and got out of there fast.” For a good reason!
Like all the women in her family, Jane was cursed. Fall in love with a guy and lose him. That wasn’t the worst of it. If a breakup didn’t take and a Ladling lady married the object of her affection, she all but signed his death certificate. Zero exceptions. A fact she hated even acknowledging.
None of her female relatives had ever beat their significant others to the grave. Grandma Lily lost Pops to a heart attack. Great grandmother Opal just straight up lost great grandfather Benjamin, who vanished one night, never to be heard from again. Opal did remarry years later, once Benjamin was pronounced dead, but the second husband died in a freak accident. And those were the tame stories in Jane’s family tree.
For her, love equaled heartbreak. No, thank you. She had endured her fair share already. But…Here and now, she kinda sorta possibly, well…missed Conrad. So dang bad. They’d only dated for a few short weeks. Had only known each other a handful of months. But they’d been the best months and weeks of her life. During the thirteen endless days since their breakup, her internal pity party had never ceased.
“No comments or questions?” Jane asked her companion.
Rolex, her beloved fur-child, stretched across her grandmother’s favorite afghan, staring at her from the back of the couch. No doubt the house panther’s bored expression hid a well of concern for his agitated mother.
“I had to end things with him. I mean, what other choice did I have?” Jane demanded. “Conrad is too amazing. He deserves to live.”
Silence. Not even a sympathetic meow.
Sighing, she reached inside the box, drew out a sign that read Hello Fall. Well, it was supposed to read Hello Fall. The O had fallen off. She sat back on her haunches. Earlier, she’d decided to distract herself from the disaster of her life by decorating her home, the caretaker’s cottage, for the first time since her Grandma Lily’s death. A failed plan, obviously.
“Think about it. Conrad’s hot enough to burn a woman’s corneas. He’s smart. Loyal. Strong. A bit stoic at times. Okay, a lot stoic most times.” But Jane could make him laugh without trying. A talent she alone possessed, with an outcome she treasured. “And he’s got the coolest job. Well, he used to have the coolest job.” At the conclusion of his last case, the special agent had put in his notice at the Georgia Bureau of Homicide. Yesterday marked his final day. “He’s a nearly extinct brand of people. Honest. Loyal.”
Jane set the sign aside and withdrew another item, wrapped in old newspaper. A gentle unrolling revealed a ceramic pumpkin with the paint rubbed off one eye. How cute. A pumpkin pirate.
“But,” she added. “The break-up was for the best. If ever I made the mistake of falling in love with him, he would propose marriage, we’d adopt a dozen fur-babies, and Conrad would die.”
A little sadness now saved her from total destruction later. Growing to depend on Conrad, only to lose him, well, could anything be more terrible? Allowing Rolex to depend on him? A far worse crime. She owed both males her best due diligence. Hence the breakup. Besides, Conrad hadn’t called or texted or begged her to reconsider. Not once. So he loved her? Ha! He’d abandoned her forever just because she’d told him never to contact her again. What a jerk!
“Now, that’s quite enough about the world’s tastiest man-candy,” she said with a firm nod. “After I get these decorations unpacked, I’ll treat myself to some homemade banana nut bread and open the early Christmas gift from Fiona.” Fiona Lawrence, a sixty-two-year-old grandmother, and one of the best people ever born. Jane’s best friend.
Okay. She forced her attention to the box before her. The next item to gain its freedom was a leather-bound book of rustic brown, with a large L stamped into the lower right corner. Not a volume she’d encountered before. Intrigued, she untied the straps and skimmed the opening pages.
How wonde
Why had her grandmother boxed up her father-in-law’s journal with a bunch of fall decorations, rather than adding the tome to the Ladling library? So far, the passages offered only notes about daily operations at the cemetery—nope. Jane spoke too soon. The notes morphed into wild ramblings about a fleur-de-lys symbol and a hunt for hidden gold.
Goodness gracious! Gold again? Periodically rumors surfaced in town about an (alleged) cult known as the Order of Seven. The claims centered around a former gravekeeper–and founding member–who found a treasure trove of nuggets during Georgia’s gold rush. Some townsfolk thought he’d stashed the wealth inside coffins just before their burials. Benjamin had clearly been a believer.
Jane read a few passages, her jaw growing slack. “He dug up plots and busted headstones during his search,” she told Rolex. The irreverence!
A folded sheet of yellowed paper, once tucked between two of the pages, fluttered into her lap. Handling with care, she eased the ends apart. Hmm. A list of utter nonsense.
1. Mule easel
2. Barreling dads gin
3. Inhaled mist
4. Island is gall
5. Wailing milk
6. Bury handgun rod
7. Sunken ice naps
What the–what? This might be a mystery for Team Truth. A group consisting of Jane and her closest friends. Fiona and her boyfriend Sheriff Raymond Moore, who planned to retire in the next few months. Beauregard “Beau” Harden. Holden Bishop. Lucas “Trick” Robichaud. And Isaac Redding. Rolex acted as the official mascot, of course.
Jane looked over the notes Benjamin scribbled in the margins. Hmm. Looked like he’d experimented with different ciphers, attempting to decode the nonsense phrases on the list. He’d also been obsessed with circles. Wow. He’d drawn rings on every available space.
Ohhh. Benjamin had believed the list of seven was part of his treasure hunt, hadn’t he? Did he think the phrases were keys to finding the gold?
Had he actually found gold–the very treasure some town’s people believed remained hidden here? Curious, Jane flipped to the last passage he’d written. Well. It ended abruptly. In fact, he’d halted writing mid-sentence.
I’m right. I know I’m right. I’d bet my life on it. I would even
Gah! Why had he stopped there? She needed to know because…. just because! And there was a way to find out. All she had to do was retrace Benjamin’s steps, going on a treasure hunt of her own. Bonus: She might gain a true distraction from her troubles and a boost to lift her out of her post-farewell-to-the-best-tush-in-the-GBH depression.
Something Jane had learned after finding three dead bodies on her property—she thrived during investigations.
A hard double rap sounded at her front door. With a gasp, she whipped up her head. Conrad! Only he knocked with such authority and distinction. Her heartbeat kicked into warp speed. Her ex was here. Why?
Rolex acted as Jane felt; he jumped to attention, his hair standing on end, his claws flaring.
She set the journal aside and scrambled to her feet. Tremors plagued her limbs as she smoothed the sides of her dress. Seriously, what was the former special agent doing here? Should she face him, or stay still and quiet until he bolted?
The hard double rap sounded again. “I know you’re home, Jane. Let me in. We need to talk.”
His husky voice sent shivers down her spine, and she moaned. Talk? Had he come to request another chance with her, after all?
Flutters erupted in her belly. Head high and palms damp, she marched to the entrance and twisted the knob. Hinges squeaked, her home opening up to the outside world…and there he stood. Tall, muscular and gorgeous, with dark hair, bronzed skin and a powerful body framed in fading sunlight.
He wore a cable-knit sweater and worn jeans, the hems frayed a bit around his combat boots. Heat radiated from him, chasing away the evening chill. The world’s most incredible scent hit her awareness. Dry cedar and those tantalizing spices. Will never get enough of his smell.
A duffel bag dangled from one of his hands. A leash hung from the other, with an orange and white corgi named Cheddar panting at the end of it. The pooch used to belong to a nurse currently in prison awaiting trial for murder. At the woman’s request, Conrad had taken over the pet’s care. A kind, caring deed that made him even hotter. Not that Jane had noticed.
Rolex took a post at her feet, daring the adorable canine to come any closer.
“Hello, Jane.” Conrad all but purred the words.
“Mr. Ryan,” she replied, hoping the formal address masked her sudden breathlessness.
The corners of his mouth curved up. Nope. There’d been no masking. “Mr. Ryan,” he said. “I like it. Makes me feel bossy.”
Um, was he flirting with her? “You can’t win me back,” she blurted out to save his very life.
His amusement only intensified. “Who says I’ll try?”
Ouch. So, yeah, that kind of stung. “Yes. Well. I’m doing magnificently, by the way. Some might even say glorious. Not that you asked. You look as if you’re doing magnificently and glorious as well. Some might say too magnificent and glorious but that’s neither here nor there.” Stop rambling! “Anyway. How are you? Truly? How’s life as a new fur-dad?”
“Fatherhood agrees with me. Cheddar is a very good boy.” His gaze slid over Jane’s purple fit and flare. “You look as lovely as usual.”
See! Ridiculously charming. “Thank you.” Needing protection from his incredible appeal, she crossed her arms over her middle. “Why are you here, Conrad?”
“Happy to explain.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Over drinks.”
She blinked at him, her pulse racing. “Uh…”
A wide grin blooming, he stepped around her to lead the eager pup inside the cottage. Rolex, the world’s most perfect feline, hissed and darted off. He’d met the corgi once before and hadn’t scratched or bopped him a single time. Meaning, yes, they were basically best friends.
Heart thumping against her ribs, Jane pivoted and followed Conrad deeper into the house. Into the kitchen, to be exact, where he puttered around as if he owned the place. And oh, he looked good doing it. As if he belonged among the chipped yellow laminate countertops and mushroom covered bread box and canister set. A favorite of Grandma Lily, who’d done the decoupage herself.
As the bane of Jane’s existence poured two glasses of sweet tea, she eased into a barstool on the other side of the counter, next to her guest’s bag. Cheddar settled at Conrad’s feet, and Rolex jumped on the counter to glare at the dog. So precious!
“Why are you here?” Jane repeated softly. Being around him, knowing she couldn’t lean against him and wouldn’t feel him wrap his strong arms around her, was too painful.
“Someone sabotaged your car last month.” He drained half the contents of his glass. “The culprit is still out there, and I plan to find them.”
Oh yeah. Her car. The attempt to end her life. A mystery she preferred to forget. Who wanted to remember a near death experience? “I’ve already provided you with a formal statement and all the information at my disposal.”
“And we’ll be going over it again. Together. After we square away some personal business.”
Her brow wrinkled even as her heart leaped. “Personal business?”
“That’s right.” His gaze held hers as he drained the rest of his glass. Dang it. Why was even that so sexy? “I’d like to rent your guest room while I’m looking for a place to stay here in town,” he stated. “Before you say no, don’t. Hear my offer first.”
